


Emergency (Help)

by SlaveToGravity



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Emergency - Freeform, M/M, Medicine, Not so oblivious Tyler, Nothing But Thieves - Freeform, Pills, Sad Josh, Sickness, Slow Death, Song fic, Tour, crew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToGravity/pseuds/SlaveToGravity
Summary: ~ The medicine is killing me ~Josh is sick, Tyler knows that. But he tries to forget. He tries. And, sadly, he succeeds.





	Emergency (Help)

**Author's Note:**

> Go listen to Nothing But Thieves. I swear, those poor guys are underrated.

_It started with simple headaches, a Monday._

          Spiders crawling down his spine, eating his head, paralyzing his movements. Sometimes, one would stay an hour or two. Little headaches, as painful as fast. They never lasted long, but they marked. Marked his skin, marked his comportment. It started from nothing, then became too much. He couldn’t handle the pain, the suffering that every new blow would put on his shoulders, sore shoulders, too heavy for his liking. Then, it grew. It grew louder, the little spiders became black widows, deepening the pain, building webs in his head, blocking his thoughts. The spiders became too much. His body, his every being couldn’t handle that anymore. And it’s at the end of a show that he decided to do something.

_Josh took the first pills a Tuesday._

          The doctor gave him pills. Pills, as small as his white polished nails, with two colors. One side blue, one side white. Normal pills, with a beautiful structure, with white powder inside. He had to take one the morning, one at lunch, then go with it all day. At first, it did something. He didn’t feel pain anymore, he couldn’t hear the black widows crawling in his head, building cobwebs that could break his brain. He felt relief flooding down his veins. He didn’t feel scared now, he felt better.

_Tyler started to worry a Wednesday._

          A normal Wednesday, two weeks after the first prescription. Everything was going great, everything was fine, absolutely fine. They were smiling, they were playing, they were beaming in their seats, on the way to the next show. Tyler was laughing at one of Mark’s jokes when he heard Josh hissing, putting a trembling hand on his heart, two little white and blue pills in his hand. Tyler looked at him and asked, asked him the usual question he asks when Josh doesn’t feel great, when pain is covering his beautiful and clear face.

“You okay there, Joshie ?”

          It would take time some days for Josh to answer, him thinking about his response, but this time, Josh took a full minute. His eyes squinting, pupils burning because of the weak light of their bus, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, keeping a regular rhythm, his breath nonexistent. Tyler was scared, confused, he didn’t know how to react at Josh’s sudden state. But, after a little time, Josh finally answered.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry Tyler, just feelin’ a little tired. I’m fine, I’m fine.”

          A sentence too long for a short question, with too much words of empty promises, Tyler didn’t buy it. Yet, even if Josh was still panting at his side, sweating, his body spasming at moments, his eyes closing, his grip on his shirt tightening, Tyler didn’t say a word. He nodded, worried, and went back to Mark’s agitated conversation. He tried to ignore Josh’s suffocated whimpers behind him. He tried. And, sadly, he succeeded.

_Tyler forgot to worry about Josh’s state a Thursday._

          And that’s all it took for Josh to pass out, alone, outside of the bus, not far away from the parking they were stopping at for the night, white and blue pills spreading everywhere around him. In the cold night, he fell limp on the ground, pain in his heart too much to handle, worst than the first headaches. Tyler didn’t look behind, Tyler didn’t search for the night, thinking Josh was in his bunk, sleeping, like the others. He didn’t worry, even if, when everything was finally silent, he couldn’t hear Josh’s quiet and cute snores. He thought everything was normal. Josh was a strong sleeper, no one could wake him up easily, and he was always so, oh so silent. Tyler didn’t think through it. Josh was sleeping. Tyler went to sleep, too.  
          They found him the next morning. Not in a critic state, but a terrible one anyway. Blue lips, pale face, the cold had been eating his skin all night. They took him to the hospital. Hypothermia. Tyler felt guilt eating him alive, guilt for not checking his friend in his bunk like he usually does, guilt for not asking him if everything was okay when, really, it wasn’t, and guilt for forgetting that, before resuming his game, he asked Josh to come back quickly from his short walk. Guilt for doing nothing, absolutely nothing. Guilt for forgetting.

_Josh tried to ask for help a Friday._

          It sounded like nothing to Tyler’s ears. A mumble, a slight whisper. Josh tried to ask for help, for some kind of support, but shame took the best of him. He tried to show him, show him that his body was slowly fading away, that his muscles were becoming sore from touring, from breathing, from living a life he couldn’t support anymore. But Tyler didn’t understand, he couldn’t, when the pain wasn’t visible, when Josh’s pain was coming from his head and heart, not his body. He wasn’t getting thinner, he wasn’t getting paler, he was getting sick, sick from the inside. Josh himself didn’t know what was creating that, that pain he couldn’t endure, that pain eating his flesh, the inside of his heart, his head. The headaches were coming back, the black widows were getting stronger, and now, red ants were building their terrier in his heart, pinching with their mandibles his skin, drinking his blood, poisoning his fluids. His body was getting weak, his heart rate was speeding up at an abnormal rhythm, his breath was becoming shallow, his eyes couldn’t discern the horizon correctly. Josh’s body was hurting, his joints were fragile, he couldn’t move like before. He couldn’t drum like before. He couldn’t smile like before. Yet, despite that, Josh couldn’t formulate a proper sentence, couldn’t ask for help, couldn’t translate with correct words the emergency covering his face. So, behind a mask of lies and conspiracy, he suffered silently, letting go of Tyler. Tyler didn’t ask, didn’t push far, wanting to give Josh some space. Touring was exhausting, he knew that. So he listened to his own music, watching from afar as Josh took his morning pill. Everything was normal. He tried to forget Josh’s face contorted in pain when he stood up, he tried to forget Josh’s hand on his heart. He tried. And, sadly, he succeeded again.

_Tyler made Josh forget to take his daily pills a Saturday._

          And he felt good for the first time, even for just a short amount of time. He didn’t put two and two together, he didn’t think about everything twice, he just thought that, maybe, the medicine given to him was making effect, was finally working. He felt calm, he felt relieved. He smiled at Tyler, he smiled at everyone. He hugged Tyler longer than usual, breathing in his scent, taking in his happy face, his eyes reflecting Josh’s mocha ones. They were both giggling, teeth hitting teeth. Their phone were thrown away, their hands were sliding down their backs, their bodies were heating up, matching the excited state of the other. They had all afternoon for them, for only them. They played games, they sang, they made love. They smiled.  
          When everyone came back, they separated, smiling at a joke they just read. Tyler stood up and talked joyfully to the others while Josh went to the kitchen. He took his bottle of pills and put three in his hand. One for the morning, one for lunch, and one just in case, to feel safe. Tyler eyed from afar Josh gulping them with cold water. He winced as Josh coughed. But Josh smiled at him and walked to the others. Later at night, he hugged everyone, kissed Tyler discretely, and went to his bunk. He lay down and closed his eyes. His right arm hurt. His headache came back. His heartbeat slowed. His breath stopped. And no one saw.

_Josh never woke up next Sunday._

          Tyler remembers his frustration when Josh didn’t move, still facing the wall, back facing Tyler. Tyler remembers Mark slowly becoming more and more alarmed at Josh's silent state. Tyler remembers how, after pushing Josh a little too strongly, Josh’s numb body fell on the ground, eyes closed, face pale, saliva and blood mixing on his chin, nose full of blood. Tyler remembers how everyone stayed silent, for a minute, before going wild, screaming at the top of their lungs, calling for help, dialing 911, stopping the bus abruptly. Some cried, some yelled, some ran away. Mark sobbed on the phone. Tyler stayed silent, taking Josh’s hands in his, waiting for him to wake up. He blocked the sounds around him and eyed the bottle of pills decorating the kitchen with its white and shiny color. Tyler didn’t cry like the others, didn’t yell like the others, didn’t run away like the others. He just quietly accused God for letting them down on a Sunday.

**Author's Note:**

> For once, I don't have anything to say.
> 
> Music : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iryBlLyxEsk&ab_channel=NothingButThieves
> 
> Wattpad : Calixxe
> 
> Thanks everyone.  
> Sur ce, buh-bye ~


End file.
